The Twists and Turns of a High School Love Story
by myfivemeters
Summary: Arthur was just a British boy who moved to America in the fifth grade. When he immediately fell in love with Alfred F. Jones (who, for some reason, really likes to pick on him), his life takes a turn for the worst (or is it the best?). What will high school hold for these two polar opposites? High school AU, UsUk
1. Prologue-Why I've Always Hated School

There was always a reason I've hated school. A lot of people could never just hone it down to just _one_ reason, especially when there were things like getting good grades and impress all of your godawful friends that never stop judging you for the way you look. Since I don't really get good grades and I haven't much friends (unless you count the English teacher), I didn't really need to worry about those. Oh no. I could bring it all down to just one name.

Alfred F. Jones.

Ever since I moved to America in what they call 'Fifth Grade' (whatever the hell that meant, these backwards twats know nothing), he made it his personal duty to mock me. Whether it was my accent, my clothes, or the fact that I was a total nerd, he went out of his way to insult me. This continued through 'Middle School' (which strangely ended in '8th grade'). And here we are, the day before my first day of 'High School'. I heard that Alfred had already been accepted on both the 'Football' team (which apparently wasn't the same thing I've played) and some other sport that I didn't bother to learn the name of nor how it works because I really didn't care about dumb American sports that have the wrong names. He's also projected to be the school's 'golden boy,' probably because of his God-given good looks.

(Did I just say that?)

To clarify: he's got sun-kissed blonde hair and blue eyes that literally could pierce your soul. Because he's played so many sports since the age of practically pre-birth, he's got a toned body, at least for a 14-almost-15 year old. Not that I looked at him while changing for gym. Certainly not.

(Shut your mouth.)

Anyways, Alfred's practically got girls fawning over him at all times. Strangely, he doesn't have a girlfriend. I'm almost positive that he will soon, which for some odd reason makes me dissapointed. Oh, have I not said the worst part of my dilemma?

I've been in love with him since the first time I laid eyes on him.

I suppose it wasn't that hard. He actually is a nice person, at least when he isn't trying to impress his friends. Sometimes I like to think that he only makes my life a living hell because he has no other choice. I've seen him outside of school and he's a fairly decent person.

(Not that I follow him because I've already finished next month's homework or anything.)

Alfred works at the homeless shelter every Saturday from about 10 am until at least 10 pm. He's very kind to the people that are there. In all reality, it's like he's a completely different person. I wish he'd be like that at school, but I guess his popularity is more important than his values. I wonder at times how I fell in love with him at such an early age (especially when I didn't even know what love was), but then I think about all of the nice things Alfred's done in secret for me, even though I've already said that he makes my life a living hell. But here's the thing: every time he does something nice for me, like secretly give me the answer in Science (because for some reason I _always_ sit next to him), he does something equally as mean, like 'accidentally' spilling chemicals all over me while his friends were watching. In this way, he leads me on and kicks me off a cliff.

Have I mentioned I'm a male?

[Hi. This is going to be one of my first longer stories, so take it easy on me. I'm sorry for any mistakes that I've made, especially the British schooling thing. I literally know nothing about it so I had to look it up online. Idk when I'll update next. Toodles!]


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The alarm blared in my ear. I blearily blinked the sleep from my eyes as I hit the snooze button and rolled out of bed. I paused for a second in confusion before I realized my predicament.

The first day of school.

We had already had a 'freshman' orientation, of course, but today was the first _actual_ day of 'high school', with upperclassmen and such. I groaned as I flipped through my dresser for something to wear. Usually, being my organized self, I would've already have picked out my outfit for today. I guess I just wasn't feeling it last night.

(I actually was just secretly praying that if I held everything off that had anything to do with school, today wouldn't happen. Sadly, it still did.)

I finally settled on a green jumper, but still couldn't decide on pants. Did I want to wear those American atrocities called 'jeans', or did I want to wear a nice pair of black pants? After thinking for a split second of indecision, I decided on jeans because I didn't want to look too...ah, what was it called?

Oh yes, 'try-hard'.

After looking myself over for a few moments, I nodded and headed downstairs to my kitchen. I smiled when I saw the breakfast that my mother had laid out for me. I sat down at the counter and began to eat, sighing at the pure perfection of my birth-giver's cooking. I heard my father come down the stairs and turned to face him. He was wearing a nice suit, which I guess is what he wore to work now (I never saw him leave for work over the summer, he was always up before I was). He walked over to me and ruffled my hair, which I immediately scowled at.

"Stop that, I'm not a child anymore." I grumbled. He chuckled and grabbed a piece of my meal.

"You always be a child to me, son." He munched on the bacon. I looked him up and down, trying to figure why he was dressed so formally. He must have seen me, because he soon answered. "We have a big meeting today about the rises in the stock market that have been going on lately. It's actually quite interesting what with the..." He said more, but I honestly tuned out because I didn't find the economy all that interesting. I also didn't really like the way his accent made his words sound. My father was American, but had met my mother while on a business trip to London. While there, I was concepted and my father soon proposed (after a whopping two months of courtship). He had to go back to America, and my mother gave birth to me and raised me in England because neither of them had the funds to move. Finally, my mother came here to live with my father.

"You know, I'm positive that stocks with the economy and whatnot are interesting, but I've got to get to school." I said to interrupt his rant. I rose from my seat, brushed myself off, and grabbed my school bag. "Good luck with the meeting, father."

"Good luck at school, kiddo!" He ruffled my hair again and I muttered something about 'my hair was already as messy as it is'. My mother, with her superhuman hearing, rushed down the steps at the mention of leaving for school. She smiled and gave me a hug.

"Oh, good luck darling! Make friends!" She said. I shook her off and sighed (for the second time that day).

"I'll try." I turned towards the front door and exited my home after one final wave. Luckily, we only lived a couple of streets away from the school, so it really only took me a few minutes to reach the building. Not many students were there, but I figured that it would be best if I was early.

(I actually apply that rule to everything. It's good to be punctual, but best to be early.)

(Shut up.)

I looked over the building. It was a simple collection of brown buildings with similar layouts. The main building had the words 'Roosevelt High School' written across the front, with a smaller inscription reading 'Home of the Bulldogs'. I sighed (again) and walked in the front door. All the freshman lockers were in the front building. Fortunately, my locker happened to be by my first class of the day, which was probably the one I dreaded most (other than Chemistry. Ugh, science.)

Algebra II. _Honors_ Algebra II.

You see, I was one of the few who tested out of the freshman math course and made it into this course. I don't even know how I did it, because I'm absolutely horrid at math.

(Okay, so maybe Alfred had slipped me some of the answers.)

Of course, Alfred had been the only other one to make it in this class. I'd probably be seated by him, too. By now, I wasn't exactly sure if this was bad. I figured that if it was only us two, he wouldn't be rude to me because his friends weren't around. I mean, he may have friends in the sophomore year, but he wasn't that big of a social butterfly. I'd already heard him admit more than once that he was _terrified_ of upperclassmen. And no, I do not listen to his conversations.

After pulling all of my books for first period, I shut my locker and headed towards the classroom. Since it was fairly early, I pulled out one of the English books we had been assigned to read for next week. I'd already read before, since it was a classic and all (it was _The Lord of the Flies_), but I figured I'd reread it. 30 minutes later (okay, so maybe I was a little early), most of the class arrived. The teacher soon followed and arranged us into our assigned seats. And, because life loves (or maybe hates) me, I was seated in the back with Alfred.

"Hey dude! You still have those eyebrows!" He exclaimed. I scowled and shut my book. "Oh, you're reading the English novel? Have you not read it before?"

"Of course I've read it before," I snapped. Alfred raised his eyebrows and sat down.

"Sorry man. But me too! It's actually a really good book." I jerked my head up in surprise.

"You've read _The Lord of the Flies_? Wait, you _read_?" He scratched the back of his neck and almost looked embarrassed. Almost.

"Actually, yeah. I read all the time. I have trouble sleeping, so I read." Alfred replied with a smile. And not the 'hey everybody look at me' but a genuine smile, like the one you give close friends. It was actually quite attractive. I smiled back and he gasped.

"What?" I asked, thinking that there was something in my teeth.

"You just smiled!" He gave a huge grin. I thought for a moment and realized that I actually don't smile all that often.

"Well, I suppose I only do that with people I trust." I had _almost_ regretted what I said, if it wasn't for the look Alfred gave me. He smiled that smile again and his eyes were full hope, which made me smile even bigger. We sat there, just looking at each other, until the teacher started class. For the next 45 minutes, I daydreamed about that damn smile and felt the butterflies flutter in my stomach. When the bell rang, I walked out the door with a slight smile on my face (which didn't stay on for long). Almost immediately, another freshman knocked my books on the floor. They rushed off with a few snickers as I knelt down to pick up my books.

After arriving to History class, I found out that I had this class with Alfred, too. I sat down in the back of the class, hoping that his friends wouldn't see me. I pulled out a piece of paper and began to draw. I'm actually quite good at drawing almost anything, but I'm the best at unicorns.

(It's not because I like them. Don't look at me like that.)

I was so lost in the drawing that I hadn't noticed that his friends were gathered around me until Alfred said something.

"Dude, you're drawing _unicorns_? That's so lame!" He let out a peal of laughter as his friends joined in.

"Fag!" One of them yelled out. They laughed even harder and began to chant.

"_Fag! Fag! Fag! Fag!_" Soon the whole classroom joined in but immediately stopped when the teacher walked in. For the rest of the class I sat with my head down, wondering why life hated me. I tried to look on the bright side, thinking that my day really couldn't get worse than this.

How wrong I was, and it was only second period.

.-.-.-.-.

Third period was another class that I really have never enjoyed: Chemistry. For some odd reason, whatever power there was above enjoyed ridiculing my pitiful existence because I was lab partners with Alfred for the rest of the year. You'd think that this would make me the happiest person in the world, but not when every single one of Alfred's buddies was in this class with us. Our teacher had decided that we would just launch into experiments right away, so here I was, trying to light the Bunsen burner.

"Watch out Artie, you might light your gigantic eyebrows on fire," he whispered loud enough for the whole class to hear. All his friends laughed and he continued. "But then again, you could probably use the trim!" The class laughed harder. I sighed and I almost snapped.

Almost.

After that, seemingly the whole high school was out to get me. Fourth period (our study hall), I must have had at least a thousand pieces of paper thrown at me, all of them saying 'fag' or 'eyebrows', and at least half of them from Alfred. Fifth period (Spanish) someone decided to ask what 'Arthur is a nerd' in Spanish. Thankfully, the teacher did not indulge them and slipped me a bit of Mexican sweets. At our lunch block, a football jock 'accidentally' smacked my tray all over me. I had to eat in the bathroom after that. Things like this continued until we finally arrived to my favorite subject.

English class.

I instantly felt lighter as I walked into the classroom, seeing the books on the walls and smelling the overwhelming aroma of worn paper. I sat as close to the front as I could, happy to be somewhere that I understood. I sighed happily for a moment before Alfred waltzed in and took a seat next to me.

"Hey Artie!" He grinned.

"Don't call me that," I snapped. Alfred's eyes widened and he raised his hands up.

"Jeez, sorry. Didn't know you don't like nicknames," Alfred said reproachfully. I glared at him.

"I don't very much like a lot of things, like being called a fag or getting paper thrown at the back of my head," I snarled.

"Dude, we were just teasing you." And then I almost snapped.

(Almost.)

I sighed and turned away from him. Of course Alfred would never understand, because he was popular and I wasn't. Our teacher finally arrived, making her entrance clear with her words.

"Hello class. My name is Mrs. Hedervary. This semester we are studying poetry. To understand your knowledge on this, I would like you all to take out paper and write one. It can be whatever you'd like it to be. Begin." She had a slight accent, and she seemed like a good person who knew when and how to keep people in line. I got out a piece of paper and a pencil and thought for a moment before writing. I finished just as Mrs. Hedervary spoke again. "Alright, put your pencils down. Alfred, why don't you go first?" Alfred grinned and nodded before standing up.

"_Hey look at me,_

_It's my turn._

_I'm the best that could be_

_when it comes to giving burns._

_So step back, I've got this in the bag._

_I'll win with my massive amounts of swag."_

The class laughed and Alfred took a mock bow. Mrs. Hedervary clapped politely as he sat down. "Would anyone like to go?" She asked. I raised my hand slowly. "Arthur, go ahead." She smiled encouragingly and stood up, clearing my throat before I began.

"_They say the colour of love is red,_

_and the colour of sadness is blue._

_But what is the colour of loneliness?_

_Some say gray,_

_for the dull feeling it portrays._

_Others say black,_

_for the utter despair that you feel._

_But I say white,_

_Not for it's seemingly pure essence,_

_but because in it's purest form,_

_white is the absence of all colour_

_and loneliness is the absence of all things _

_that make life truly colourful."_

I stood there in silence for a moment before the class began to clap. My cheeks heated up and I took my seat. I looked over at Alfred, who had a look of awe and respect on his face. If possible, my face turned an even darker red.

"Very good, Arthur." Mrs. Hedervary said. The final bell rang soon after and I rushed to leave. Alfred stopped me, however, and said something that made my day a little less white.

"That was really good. And I'm sorry about today."

[Hi. I just wanted to let you guys know that Arthur's poem is actually my poem. Please don't take it or anything because I'm really proud of it and I want to be able to call it mine because it is. Thanks for the reviews!]


	3. Chapter 2

"Queer!" Someone shouted as I walked through the hall. It had been a couple of weeks since Alfred had said sorry, and somehow things had gotten worse. My locker had to be repainted _twice_ because someone had decided to spray paint 'fag' on my locker. I'd already been locked in the janitor's closet by the freshmen football team (excluding Alfred) and had paper thrown at me in the bathroom. I knew that high school wasn't going to be sunshine and daisies, but I hadn't known that it was going to be _this_ bad.

Of course, Alfred hadn't taken part of these things. We'd actually become friends, and I was going over to his house after school that day to study for our Algebra II test coming up.

(Which I desperately needed help on, because it seemed variables were a work of Satan.)

I finally arrived to English, and sat in my normal seat. Alfred came in a few moments afterwords and sat next to me. I felt my heart rate pick up and heat rise to my face.

"You okay?" He asked. I blushed even harder and nodded my head. He smiled that damn _smile _again and I nearly died. I turned around before I turned into a tomato. 20 minutes after class had started, I felt a piece of paper tapped against my elbow. I sighed and grabbed the note, which was obviously from Alfred. He made this a habit, and I normally got in trouble for it. Mrs. Hedervary seemed to like me (or she knew that it really wasn't me but liked to make Alfred laugh and almost piss himself), so I never really received the consequences. I quietly opened the note, which read:

_Are you ready to study for the Algebra test?_

I quickly wrote back a response and folded it up.

_Not really, but I have to. We're walking to your home after this period, correct?_

I passed it back to him and watched him open it with eagerness. He scribbled something down and gave it back.

_Come on! Math is fun! And yea, meet me by the front entrance. What do you want for dinner?_

_It's not fun when there isn't just numbers involved. I never had the intention to stay for supper, but I will if you want me to. And whatever you have is fine._

_HAMBURGERS._

I sighed and slipped the note in my pocket, seeing that the bell rang. I walked as quickly as I could, trying to make it so the football team wouldn't delay my meet up with Alfred. Thankfully, I got to my locker unscathed and packed my bag quickly.

Unfortunately, they caught me before I could make it out.

Someone stuck their foot out and I tripped, smacking my nose into the floor. They laughed as I got up quickly, making my to the front door. I held my nose, feeling the blood gushing onto my face. I saw Alfred, whose smile was immediately erased as soon as he saw me.

"Dude, what the hell happened?" He asked.

"I...walked into a doorway?" I winced at my uncertainty, knowing that he was probably going to call bullshit.

(He did.)

"Bullshit! Who was it?" I shrugged as we began to walk. "It was someone on my team, wasn't it? I keep telling them to stop, but I don't know. They don't listen to me, even though I could kick them of the team 'cause I'm the captain." My heart fluttered. He was sticking up for _me_? After a period of silence, the blood flowing from my nose lightened up and I removed my hand. I looked down at my shirt.

"Damn it. I got blood everywhere." He glance at me and started laughing. I glared and he sobered up quickly.

"Dude, I let you borrow one of my shirts. We should probably clean you face up, too." I nodded and looked sideways at him, admiring the way he looked in the light. He looked at me and smiled that stupid smile. "You're staring at me."

"No I'm not. I was just...looking at you. Without blinking. Or looking away." I felt my face heat up as he laughed.

"That's literally the definition of staring." I looked over at him to send him a death glare, but I saw his smile and eventually smiled back. I looked forward again, only to look back at him to see him staring at me.

"Now you're staring." I chuckled and smiled a little bit more. I swear, I only smile with him.

(Not because I like him. He's an idiot and says a load of dumb stuff.)

(You shut up.)

"I was just admiring your smile." I choked on air and his expression turned from content to worried. "Are you okay?" I nodded as we both fell to silence. We finally arrived to his house, which was a nice two story home with a fair sized backyard. "Welcome to my awesome house." Alfred whispered. I followed him in to be greeted by who I assumed was his brother.

"Hey Alfie. I'm heading out to practice and mom and dad went out. Who's that?" He peered over at me.

"Hi."

"That's Arthur. We're studying for a test. Athur, this is Matthew. I swear to God, his blood is literally maple syrup. He's as Canadian as you can get. He plays hockey and even says _eh._ It's hilarious." Matthew raised his hockey stick and looked like he was ready to bash his head in.

"I will beat your brains out. I do not say that. I'm leaving now. There's money on the table for food. You should probably get all that blood off, too." Matt walked out the door with his gear, and the door shut, leaving the two of us in the house.

Alone.

"Yeah, he's weird. He's usually not that loud around new people, but I guess it's because he was too busy trying to murder me. Mattie's pretty cool though. He's a junior. He was born three years and three days before me, isn't that legit? Anyways, let's find a shirt and get all that blood off." I followed him upstairs to his bathroom. "Sit there," he said as he pointed to the counter. "I'll go get a shirt." I nodded and sat down. After thinking for a moment, a wave of realization hit me.

I was in his house. I was in his _bathroom._

I almost squealed, but caught myself.

(Did I really just admit I almost squealed?)

I regained my composure as Alfred returned with a shirt. "Take your shirt off."

"W-What?" I spluttered. He looked up at me with his eyebrows raised.

"I have to clean the blood off, remember? You also need to change." I muttered something about 'I could do it myself' but he shook his head. I shakily slipped my shirt off and he began to dab at my chest with a wet washcloth. The contact was driving me crazy. It was almost like he was doing it on purpose, the way he would leave his pinkie off the cloth and lightly graze my-

Wait a second.

"Dude, you're toned." I spluttered and turned red. "Why don't you play any sports?" He looked up at me and I swallowed.

"I just never had the inclination to." I shrugged. He nodded and stood up, starting to dab at my face. Damn, Alfred was _way_ too close to my face.

"Why are you so close to me?" I asked. He glance up and my breathe caught in my throat. He was_ very_ close to me, and his eyes looked really pretty.

(The hell?)

"Why? Do you not like it? Are you claustrophobic?" I scoffed.

"I am not claustrophobic."

"Okay then." Alfred continued to dab at my face, glancing up every once and a while. I tried really hard not to stare at him, but I just couldn't tear my eyes away. "You've got nice eyes." He said.

Wait, what?

"T-Thanks. You've got pretty eyes too." Did I really just say that? "I mean, they're nice. Not pretty, or whatever. I mean, they're blue. A nice blue. Obviously." He chuckled and handed me the shirt.

"Thanks." I slipped the shirt on and frowned once I read it.

"Really? 'I Love Hamburgers'?" He laughed.

"I knew you'd love it. Come on, my room's this way." He grabbed my wrist and dragged me to his room. There were various posters for different sports on the walls. Other then a couple of books, his room was relatively clean.

"Wow. Your room is cleaner than I thought it would be." I said as we sat down in the middle of the room. I pulled out my book as Alfred pulled out his.

"Okay, so what don't you get?" I thought for a moment before answering.

"Everything." He chuckled. Alfred started to explain a lot of things, like quadratic whatcha-ma-call-its, but I really wasn't listening. Every now and then he'd look up and smile that _smile_ and I'd get lost in those _damn_ cerulean eyes. God, why did he have to be so perfect and I so-so...

Eyebrow-y.

After a while we stopped talking about maths (thank God) and started on school gossip. You'd think we'd be talking about sports or something, but no. Alfred told me all about whose asses the guys on his team wanted to 'tap' (which I really didn't want to know) to who was going with who to the freshman dance that was coming up.

"Are you going? To the dance, I mean." I shrugged my shoulders.

"I hadn't planned on it. It's a date thing, correct?"

"Yea." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly (which he tended to do a lot). "I was thinking about asking Lisa. You know, the girl in Spanish class with the blonde hair and the green eyes? Yea, her. She's really nice and likes reading and stuff. She's on the volleyball and the softball team, though, which is cool. She's kinda like you, I guess. She likes poetry and shizz. I think she's from Iowa, so she kinda has an accent. She says 'pop' instead of soda which is weird, right? I think I'd like to talk to her sometime..." His rant about Lisa went on for a little while, which included him telling me all the ways she was oddly like me, for instance drinking tea. "So, Artie, who do you like?"

"Why-well-I don't like anyone." I finally managed to get out. He smirked.

"Yes you do. Don't deny it. Is it...oh! Is it Amie? She's cool. She's kind of a bitch though, so probably not her. How about Katherine? She's from Britain, too, although she's really snobbish and no one really likes her. Come on, just tell me!" I shook my head. This was getting quite awkward.

"Can we have supper now?" I asked. Alfred sighed.

"I guess. I'll order the pizza!" I let out a breathe of relief, thankful that we had moved on from that discussion. 20 minutes later, we were back downstairs eating the meat lovers pizza. I daintily cut my slice while Alfred stuffed his face. "Dude, why the hell are you are you eating pizza with a _fork_?" I shrugged.

"I'd rather not go home with my face covered in sauce and meat, thank you very much."

"Dude. You should totes my goats stay the night." What? Literally just two weeks ago he was making fun of my eyebrows, and now he wanted me to stay at his _house_? And what did 'totes my goats' mean?

After a moment of pondering, I sighed. "Fine. I'll call my mother and ask." He cheered and did a little victory dance. I took out my cell phone and called. My mother was absolutely ecstatic that I had a friend who wanted me over for the night. While I was on the phone listening to mother continuously ask me what I needed, Alfred whispered something about 'ask about the whole weekend.' "Mo-mother-can I just-MOTHER. I DO NOT NEED A NIGHT LIGHT. LISTEN. Alfred would like to know if I could stay the whole weekend."

"_THE WHOLE WEEKEND?! OF COURSE YOU CAN!" _I gasped and held the phone a foot away from my ear. I quickly told my mother that yes, I would need clothes, NO, I do NOT need my bunny, thank you, please hang up, don't bring pictures, please hang up, you're embarrassing me, _please, just hang up the bloody phone already._ After I hung up, I saw Alfred rolling on the floor, laughing.

"That-that was the funniest thing that I have ever heard." I glared at him.

"Are you sure your parents will be okay with this?" He nodded enthusiastically. A couple minutes later, she showed up with my things. I thanked her and quickly made her leave because I knew that the book in her hand was baby pictures. After that was done, we retreated back to Alfred's room.

"So. What now?"

"How would I know? It's your house." Alfred looked deep in thought for a moment before he gasped. "What?"

"COD. We need to play Call of Duty." He grabbed my wrist and dragged me down two flights of stairs to his basement. He set everything up and quickly ran me through the basics of playing the game.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"YEAH! TAKE THAT YOU HAMBURGER GIT! YES!" I screamed as I killed Alfred. The final score came up and I cheered seeing my kill score compared to his: 26 to 3. He hung his head in shame.

"Have you even played this game before?" He asked quietly.

"NOPE! HAHA!" He punched my arm playfully.

"Shut up. I let you win. Come on, let's go upstairs." I followed him back up to his room and saw the time.

"11:30? How long did we play for?" He shrugged. "How come no one's home yet?"

"Mattie's probably crashing with one of his friends. Oh God, I hope that he's not with that stupid albino kid again. He's annoying. Mom and Dad went to dinner and they probably caught a movie afterwords."

"Oh. So what now?" Alfred shrugged (again).

"I'm beat. Let's hit the sack!" I smiled and started pulling the my sleep wear from my bag. After brushing my teeth, I grabbed the blanket that Alfred had gotten out for me and laid it out on the floor. He soon returned from his bathroom and jumped on his bed. "I'm turning the lights off, 'kay?" I held up a thumb and the room went dark. A few moments later, though, his voice sounded out. "But seriously, who do you like?"

"Alfred, go to sleep."

"Is it Emma?"

"No."

"Christie?"

"Alfred-"

"OH! I bet you its Lauren!"

"Alfred."

"Yeah?"

"I don't like anybody."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Go to sleep." For a couple of minutes, it was silent. (Only a couple.)

"Arthur?"

I sighed. "Yes?" It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"You look really nice when you smile." I blushed beet red (although no one could see). The room stilled and soon I could hear his breathing even out.

"So do you Alfred."

[Hey there. A little fluff. Did you notice that 'Lisa' is just like Arthur? Huh. What a coincidence. By the way, I totally pulled the names out of my ass. They aren't OC's or actually characters. The only people that I plan on being in this fic are Hungary (English teacher, she comes in at the end), Canada, Prussia, and _maybe_ France but probably not. Hope you enjoyed the long chapter.]


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